Highland Hunger by Hannah Howell Page A

they were.
    As Einar and the other men helped her get her friends out through the tunnel, Una fought the urge to run back to be with Raibeart. She knew, if only from watching the MacNachtons take down the guards, that the men were all capable of taking care of themselves. It did not stop her from worrying about Raibeart, however. She silently prayed that he would return to her unharmed.
     
    Raibeart was surprised at the lack of a guard as they made their way to the laird’s rooms. Even though they were approaching through the man’s escape route, there should have been someone on guard. The ease with which they were advancing on their prey made him wary. When he stood by Cathal outside the door that would take them into the laird’s rooms, he pushed aside that unease and fixed his mind on the battle to come.
    “There is a spy hole,” said Cathal in the low whisper that only his men could hear. “Looks to be a tapestry over the door with the hole cut through it as weel. Why would he put one into his own chambers?”
    “Una said this room used to be his wife’s bedchamber,” Raibeart reminded him.
    “Ah, of course.” Cathal made use of the spy hole. “The woman is on the bed and all the men are looking at her or that redheaded fool, but none are right at the bedside. Seven men so that bastard Angus is there. They are all armed but their backs are to us.” He moved back a little and began to cautiously open the door. “Let us pray no one sees the tapestry move outward. Slip in if ye can but attack immediately if someone sees you.”
    Sword in hand, Raibeart was eager to cut these men down and not just because of the helpless woman on the bed, one who had MacNachton blood in her veins. When he had seen the cages Una and the others had been held in, seen the two frightened children huddled inside one, rage had nearly blinded him. The killing of the guards had not been enough. He wanted to kill the man who had put those innocents in a cage and fed off them.
    The men in the room were so intent upon the woman, eagerly awaiting her rape, they never saw the MacNachtons slip through the door and into the shadows. Raibeart looked at Angus as he moved toward the man. Angus’s hard face was flushed with lust, but he was obviously hesitant to take the woman in front of six leering men. It would not be long, however, before the crude taunts of the others pushed the man to act, and Raibeart tensed, ready to stop him if he put one hand on the woman.
    Then Angus tensed and looked around. Raibeart silently cursed. Una had said that the man was a skilled hunter. Raibeart should have anticipated that Angus could scent the death that was encircling them all. He moved quickly and grabbed the man. A sharp pain in his side told Raibeart that Angus had already prepared for an attack and had armed himself. Ignoring the pain and the damp warmth of blood soaking his shirt, he smiled at Angus. The way the man paled, his eyes widening, gave Raibeart pleasure. This man was responsible for hunting down Lost Ones and sending them to their death or a living hell. Raibeart let Angus see his beast in its full feral glory and then sank his fangs into the man’s neck.
    Once he had drunk his fill, Raibeart snapped Angus’s neck and tossed the man’s body aside. A quick glance around told him that only the laird still lived with his throat caught tight in Cathal’s grasp. The ones that knew the secret of MacNachton blood were all dead save for the laird, and Cathal would soon end that man’s miserable life. Others at Dunmorton had undoubtedly aided in sending Lost Ones to the leader of the hunter, but although slaughtering them all had a certain appeal, Raibeart believed that the real threat of Dunmorton would die with its laird.
    “To whom and to where did ye send the others ye captured?” Cathal demanded of the terrified man he held captive.
    Thomas MacKay, laird of Dunmorton, no longer looked like the brutal man he had been. He was sweating,